North Bound
by Narnian at Heart
Summary: "WHAT ARE YOU DOING ON MY LAND?" I had him trained in my sights but he didn't even flinch. "Huntin'" he replied simply. An original character story based on my own zombie survival plan.


**So, this is my newest story idea featuring myself as an original character. I hope you'll give this story a chance. Also, I am NOT going make this a romance so you don't have to worry about this becoming a Mart Sue, so relax.**

**You should know that the content of this story is based on my ACTUAL zombie survival/economic downfall/takeover/etc. plan so it's going to be a really fun write for me! Hope it's a good read for you!**

**The Walking Dead and all characters from it do not belong to me, this is purely a fictional story. All I own is my original character!**

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The morning dawned cold and grey like most of the winter sunrises in Missouri this time of year and I sighed as the rays of light streamed in through the window, invading my senses and chasing the sleepiness away. I hated mornings. Mornings just meant another day of hard work and survival...but I guess I shouldn't complain because at least I _was_ surviving.

Rolling over, I nearly squished my fluffy bed companion. My cream and white cat, Mr. Weaslebee let out an indignant meow and jumped down from the bed with a loud thump...he's way too fat for his own good, even in the present circumstances. I watched him trot into the living room in his usual snarky manner and then finally worked up the energy to push myself into a sitting position, rubbing my eyes as they fought to adjust to the gradually brightening sunlight.

The sound of my roosters crowing from the yard got me off the bed and moving. I grabbed my G22 Glock from the nightstand and checked it's condition. There was a bullet in the chamber and the clip was full so I nodded in satisfaction and then I cautiously left my bedroom and did a sweep of the house to make sure nothing or no one had gotten in during the night.

The house was clear as usual, so I began my morning routine. I grabbed the bag of scrap meat off the porch from under the covering of snow and set it out on the cupboard to thaw so Mr. Weaslebee could have his breakfast. He was an extremely picky eater, but the outbreak had prevented me from finding much cat food so he was beginning to gladly accept the meat scraps from the game I bagged when I hunted. I had a good stock of it for him by this point.

I opened the pantry and scanned the cans, boxes and bags that filled it. I took out a can of fruit cocktail and a trail mix granola bar and ate breakfast as I pushed the blackout curtains away from my kitchen window to look out over the fields. The snow had stopped, thankfully, but the wind was blowing harshly still and I wasn't looking forward to going out in it. I chewed my granola bar thoughtfully as I went over the day's agenda in my mind and then discarded the wrapper in my trash box on my way to the garage.

When I was wrapped up warmly in my snowsuit, gloves, scarf and hat I made my way outside carefully, gun at the ready as I walked across the yard and the driveway towards the barn. The commotion of hungry animals met my ears and I smiled as I checked the rooms for roamers. Finally, when I was satisfied the coast was clear, I began my work.

"Who want's breakfast!" I called across the pasture. The first one to arrive was my dapple gray gelding, folowed closely by the small herd of sheep that were always on his heals. The cows came lumbering a little ways behind. I counted them all and was glad to find they were all there and that they had stayed safe for another night. Grabbing my gelding, LaFayette, by the rope bridle I led him to his stall and poured his oats in the trough along with a half slab of hay. When he was happily crunching away, I went to separate the sheep and cows to feed them their own hay slabs.

I broke the layers of ice that had formed on the water troughs and then made my way out to the chicken house where the wonderful birds were nestled warmly in their straw nests. The only one missing from my count was a particularly brave rooster but he soon came strutting in when I poured their feed. When I said wonderful before, that's because chickens give as much as they recieve. By the time I left the coop I had a dozen eggs in the basket I kept in there which I set outside the coop before heading out to the pasture to collect frozen cowpies. Yes, cowpies. Dry those suckers and they make a great fire.

Finally, my chores were done and I took my basket of eggs inside. Weaslebee was waiting by his food bowl, his tail twitching in annoyance at having to wait. He eyed me as I placed the eggs in an empty egg carton and I poked the bag of meat scraps to see if they were defrosted yet. They were, so I placed a half handful in his bowl and scooped some snow off the porch to melt in his water bowl.

I glanced at the sun before I shut the door and realized it wasn't even noon yet. I had plenty of time for a hunt.

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I dressed warmly, but as light and moveable as possible and grabbed my homemade longbow from beside the door, slinging my quiver of hand carved wooden arrows on my back as I headed out the door. The crunch of the snow under my boots made me realize hunting was going to be a little more difficult today.

The woods were about a half mile from the farm, but I found myself making the trip as much as possible because there's just something about being in nature that makes a person forget their cares and worries, the sound of birds singing and the trickling of the creek were the cure for my anxiety.

As I neared the edge of the trees, I slowed my steps and focused on walking as quiet as possible. I nocked an arrow and crept into the shadows of the bare trees, keeping my eyes peeled for tracks and any other sign of animal activity.

The snow made the tracking much easier and I soon found a muskrat hole in the creekbed so I looked around for a spot to sit and wait for it to either come out or return. I chose a hollowed out old oak stump that I fit into just perfectly, it was a good choice because it kept the wind off of me and helped me maintain my body heat as I stoo inside it.

Time seemed to crawl by and there was no movement in the hole and I almost moved to search elsewhere when I heard the snap of a twig off to my right and I positioned myself to get ready for a shot at whatever was coming. Thankfully, the muskrat I was waiting for came scurrying into my field of vision and I grinned as I pulled the bowstring back carefully, waiting for just the right shot...

_THWUMP!_

I nearly jumped out of my skin and a small squeal of fright left my lips when the arrow struck the muskrat. An arrow that wasn't mine! I released the tension on my bowstring and pulled myself down into the stump, hiding from the foe I could not see. The crunch of footsteps invaded my ears moments later and I held my breath as they walked right by my stump. I peeped out through a break in the wood and sized up the stranger.

It was a man, for sure, and he was holding a crossbow. He was heading toward the freshly killed muskrat, the muskrat that was almost mine, and I realized he wasn't that big of a guy...I bet I could take him out if he happened to be trouble. So I slowly and silently stood up and climbed out of the stump, the ground inside the trees was less snow covered so I managed to step down without the tell-tale crunch of it underneath and carefully nocked my arrow again, I pulled the string back and aimed it right between his shoulder blades.

"Hey!" I snapped angrily as he bent over to pick up the muskrat.

His reaction was almost amusing if I hadn't been so terrified. He let out a little yelp of fear and spun around quickly, raising his crossbow and pointing it in my direction, but he lost his footing and stumbled back a little before he assumed a defensive stance.

"Who the hell are you?" he growled at me, eyes blazing as he stared down his arrow at me. I returned the icy glare as well as I could.

"Since you're on my land I'd say you owe me your name first, stranger," I stated grimly.

"I ain't stupid, girl," was his reply, "You think I was born yesterday? I ain't giving you no name."

"Then I'm gonna write 'John Doe' on your grave marker," I threatened, "You wouldn't be the first person I've killed."

And he laughed. He had the nerve to laugh!

"Girl, you ain't never killed nobody," he said.

"Yeah? You so sure about that?" I pulled my string back a little tighter as a threat and he seemed to realize I wasn't lying.

"They ain't people, ya know," he muttered, "Those things. They don't count."

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING ON MY LAND!" I was tired of skating around the issue at hand and took a threatening step forward, arrow trained on his chest.

He seemed to lose a tiny bit of confidence and he squinted at me as if trying to figure me out.

"Huntin'" he replied simply. "I didn't know this was anyone's property."

He sounded sincere, but I wasn't going to trust him just yet. In this day and age, humans could be more dangerous than those damn roamers.

"I'll ask you again, sir," I said coldly, "What's your name?"

"Dixon. Daryl Dixon."

"Well, Daryl Dixon, where did you come from? And what brought you to my woods?"

His eyes changed then, they lost their anger. He slowly lowered his crossbow and relaxed into a less defensive stance, but I noticed he never let his guard down. I kept my aim, however.

"Georgia," he said slowly, "My group came from Georgia. We're heading for Nebraska. What brought me to your woods were a bunch of these critters."

He reached over his shoulder and pulled a string of squirrels from behind him and layed them on the ground.

I don't know what it was about him, but something in my mind told me I could trust him. I slowly lowered my bow and released the tension on the string.

"Georgia, huh?" I said eyeing the string of squirrels on the ground, "Long way from home."

"Ain't much of a home anymore," he said darkly.

I nodded, knowingly. I had seen the footage from St. Louis and Kansas City on the news before the broadcasts went dead so I knew what was happening in the world.

"My name's Sarah," I said, extending a hand towards him. He took it with a look of mistrust in his eyes and shook it firmly. "I'm sorry about all that but...well you understand. You never know just who can be trusted."

He nodded in agreement.

"My place is a half mile that direction," I continued with a nod toward the horizon, "How many's in your group?"

"Eight besides me," he admitted. "We're camped out across that field by the dirt road."

A sharp gust of icy cold wind nearly knock the breath from my lungs and I saw a snowflake in my field of vision. The clouds had gathered again and I could tell the snow was going to be falling again very soon and very heavily.

"Follow the road north and you'll reach the highway," I ordered, not knowing why I was saying this, "Turn right and the first driveway on your right is mine. Your group is welcome to wait out the snowstorm there if you like. I've got plenty of room."

He looked at me suspiciously for a moment before he nodded carefully. He picked up his squirrels and started backing away.

"And don't forget that muskrat," I said as I turned to head back to the farm.

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**So, what do you think? Worth continuing? I'll draw a map of the farm and woods and such so you can get a feel for the location and post the link here soon. Feedback would be great and helpful :D**


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